


Late Nights

by icarus_falls



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Stripper Katsuki Yuuri, add as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10111535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_falls/pseuds/icarus_falls
Summary: Mafioso!Victor is sent to retrieve a stripper who has done his organization wrong, but stalls when he meets said stripper...





	1. Chapter 1

### Prologue

Victor couldn’t help but roll his eyes in boredom. The club was so disgustingly cliché and predictable. The lights were low, the air was smokey, and the dancers were barely dressed. It was a stereotypical place for him to meet Christophe at. Christophe was a part of a Swiss gang that had allied themselves with Yakov a long time ago. The two usually met every couple of months at whichever strip club Chris would recommend. 

This time was different though. Victor had suggested this club with a very specific purpose in mind.

Victor had joined Yakov’s organization at a young age with hopes of rising quickly in the ranks. And that was exactly what he did- at age 27, he was one of the top men in the gang. At this point though, after nearly 10 years, Victor found it all to be predictable- the murmurs he’d share with Chris, the scantily clad women, even the beer. It was the same every time, every meeting, every day. Victor felt as if his ambition, his inspiration, had died. 

His meeting with Chris went smoothly. They talked business for a bit, and then chatted about the recent personal lives. Victor was fond of Chris and immensely jealous of his charisma. Sure, Victor has his own inner flair, but it was something he had worked on throughout the years. Something that was hard learned and practiced. For Chris, it seemed to come as easy as breathing. 

With only one performer left late into the night, Victor crossed his fingers that his night was not wasted. He was here for a specific dancer; a male stripper who had done wrong by one of his fellow organization members. As the last dancer was announced, he looked up, ready for the last skinny woman to grace the stage. All expectation shattered when the curtain was pulled aside. 

Out stepped a young Japanese man. He was of average height with an average frame. Nothing that would grab your attention at first, but as he began to strut to the center of the stage, however, Victor felt his heart freeze. The way this boy moved; it was fluid, seductive, and nothing what was expected. 

His hips rocked to the low beat of the base. A hand rose above his head to grip the pole as he licked his lips. A push off his left foot, and he was sliding down the pole while rotating, his legs opening as he gained momentum. A slow lazy spin, ending in a twirl so he was facing the pole. He cocked his hip as he gripped the pole and bent over, arching his back before dropping to his knees. The dancer leaned back, throwing his messy hair out of his face as he flashed the audience with a smirk.

Victor watched with baited breath.

His walk had a certainty to it- as if he knew with every step that he had the power to seduce any person near him. His movements were fluid, his legs stretching and flexing as he strutted to the pole. He wore nothing but black spandex shorts and a gauzy, baggy shirt with tight cuffs on the elbows.

Victor was entranced. He swallowed hard as his mind began to process what he was seeing. This was surely the stripper he’d been looking for. He wasn’t expecting him to be so entrancing, though… He'd never seen a dancer move the way this one was. This dancer twisted, flexed, and swayed to the music, as if he was creating a whole new beat to the finished music. He told his own song, his own story with the way he moved. 

Victor’s heart pounded and trembled with a newfound joy. This was what it was like to have a muse. He understood the obsession in literature now. It felt like his entire universe was now focused on this toned Japanese boy. And if there was one thing Victor was sure of, it was that he had to meet this dancer.  



	2. Chapter 2

"Nina, you know I don't do private dances anymore." Yuuri said, while changing back into his street clothes.

"Please Yuuri, reconsider. He's offered a handsome amount for one half hour dance. You know the rules- one of the bodyguards will be there. Nothing will happen. I know you need the money." Nina, the manager for the night, bargained.

When Yuuri first joined the club, he had agreed to do private dances. He was hesitant, but he saw how they paid, and he was in no place to turn away extra cash. He learned quickly that private dances were a dark slope; it started with a private dance, then a little extra cash for a touch, a little more for a grab, a little more cash for more clothing removed...

Yuuri shook his head. He'd sworn off dances after the second time he was propositioned. "I'm sorry Nina, but the answer is no."

Nina gritted her teeth, spinning on her heel and leaving the dressing room. A pat landed on Yuuris shoulder. Yuuri met the sympathetic face of Alex, another dancer who didn't have the luxury of turning down private dances. 

\---

The next night, Yuuri found himself weak to Nina’s pleads. He needed the money for a tutor… he couldn’t pass up the offer. 

Victor’s heart pounded as he was led by the dark-haired dancer through the hallways of the club. He didn’t want to be so excited, but he trembled with anticipation. It was for the organization, he told himself. Despite years of training though, Victor couldn’t keep his composure.

Victor had returned to watch the stripper perform, to ask for a private dance one more time. He was surprised when his request was granted this time. The staff member had seemed pretty adamant that he would not be getting a dance from the boy. 

Victor was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth though. He diligently followed the boy to the dark room in the back of the club. The dancer motioned to the couch pressed against the wall, and Victor obediently sat down. 

The dancer faced away from him, seemingly tense. He turned slowly and made eye contact with Victor. 

“My rules are no touching. I won’t touch you, you can’t touch me, and you can’t touch yourself. Agree?” The dancer gritted out, a look of pain on his face. 

Victor nodded. 

The dancer sighed softly while moving over to the speaker and turning on some music. 

Victor sighed, averting his eyes from the person who had him captivated. “Can I ask your name?” 

The dancer turned slowly, and Victor could immediately tell that the show had started. He strutted over to where Victor sat, eyeing him with a lust filled gaze. 

He straddled the Russian’s lap, holding the top of the couch by his head. He leaned over to whisper in his ear, “You can call me _Eros_.” 

A moan escaped his lips. 

The dance was slow, the beat low and heavy. Victor was never one to let his sexual desires overrule him, but here he was; a slave to this dancer. 

There was no way he could finish what he came here to do. Turning this boy over to Yakov would essentially be a death sentence. Victor couldn’t fathom letting this dancer face the wrath of his organization. He needed to be protected. 

Victor has officially found himself between a rock and a hard place.

\---

Over the next few weeks, Victor diligently avoided the topic of the dancer while speaking with Yakov. He dismissed any inquiries, saying that he was “working on it”.

Meanwhile, he visited the dancer multiple times a week. He’d become a regular, attracting way too much attention for someone of his position. He knew he was on thin ice, but he couldn’t stop himself.

After two weeks of constant attention, the dancer seemed to have caved. He sought Victor out in the nightly crowds, sitting beside him in a dark-lit booth. They spent the night talking about everything and nothing. Victor’s heart was racing, even more so when the dancer placed his hand upon his thigh with a ferocious blush. 

After much pleading, the dancer had conceded and told Victor his real name. 

His name was Katsuki Yuuri, he was 20, and he would be Victor’s.

\---

Their relationship may have started in a strange way, but neither could deny that there was something more between them. Surprisingly, Yuuri had been the one to initiate a real relationship. Victor had been patient, afraid that any aggressive advances would scare away the dancer. Their relationship started with innocuous coffee dates, and escalated to fancy dinners, shopping, and even dance clubs. 

Victor felt like his world had been seeped in color. For so long he’d been wrapped up in Yakov’s affairs that he hadn’t allowed time for himself. He never bothered cultivating a relationship outside of his organization. He never allowed himself the luxury of caring for someone; he never had the time. 

Now that Yuuri was in his life, Victor couldn’t imagine his life without him. 

Yuuri was bright and lively. Yuuri was a source of endless happiness for Victor… despite Yuuri’s bouts of insecurity, the occasional night of tears, and his irritability in the mornings, he brought life and love to Victor’s previously dull existence. 

A deep pit of dread began to fill Victor’s stomach. Yuuri was such a sweet, innocent person. Stripping was something he did to pay for his college degree… Yuuri was just a struggling student from a good, wholesome background. 

Victor’s involvement in his life was a sham. Eventually Yakov’s patience would grow thin, and he’d send somebody else to collect Yuuri. Or one of the other members would catch Victor with Yuuri. He had been extremely careful so far, and luckily it had paid off. There was only so much luck could do though…

Victor knew it was time to open up to Yuuri. About _everything_.


End file.
